


Path to Isolation

by HopeStoryteller



Series: Gleefully Voicing This Eulogy [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Unfortunate Implications, but I've got a cute moth OC so is it really that bad, in which I dig myself further, into the "oops I can't write a redemption arc for PK anymore" hole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: In the dead of night, a moth makes a final pilgrimage to Hallownest's Crown.He is being followed, and he knows this. He just hopes that he has enough time before his pursuer catches up.
Series: Gleefully Voicing This Eulogy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028826
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	Path to Isolation

It is late when Tara makes his final pilgrimage to Hallownest’s Crown, and for the first time in his life, he makes it alone. The jagged crystal terrain is... hazardous at the best of times, much more so now. But he can fly, and that helps immensely. So too does the fact that the Infected largely ignore him—and that only confirms his suspicions as to the Infection’s origin.

If he were a little braver, he would go back to the Archives, and tell the Teacher. Tell them all, while he’s at it. If he were a little braver, and a little more optimistic that it would do anything at all to change this kingdom’s doom.

He wouldn’t be alone, if he had a choice. But his colleagues are all busy with one project or another—most can’t actually fly—and his family… suffice to say they aren’t an option anymore, either, for perhaps the same reason that a plague is running rampant.

But he is alone, and he is being followed. That, however, is a problem for future Tara. Present Tara just needs to make it up. And, at last—he does.

At last—he clambers up to the very top of Crystal Peak, passing the shelters meant for visiting pilgrims. They are empty, now. They have been empty for a very long time, and even now that Tara is here he cannot stay. He walks, instead, briskly, to the statue at the edge. 

The statue is cracked and weathered now, no longer gleaming as it once did. It is still, however, unmistakably Her. Two wings, spread wide to embrace those She cared for, and hold them close. A fluffy body and ruff, clearly mothlike. And, of course, her tri-horned crown—one of the horns on her statue broken down to half its intended height.

“Radiance.” Tara places a single claw on the statue’s base, and bows his head. “I… have never been good at this, and I fear I do not have much time, so I will keep this as brief as I can. Which is admittedly not that brief, but… I’ll try.”

The wind ruffles his feathers, chilling him, and Tara shivers despite himself. He knows better than to think he’s lost his pursuer fully, but if his theory is right, the Infected below will buy him some time. If he’s not… better get to it, then. He only has one shot at this.

“You’re behind the Infection,” Tara whispers to the wind. “Aren’t you? I… didn’t want to believe it, at first. I didn’t tell anyone about it, even as I became more and more sure, because you’re… well, it didn’t make  _ sense. _ Why would you make a  _ plague? _ And why would you target your children?”

He looks out, then, over the edge. There’s the lights of the border town below. Dirtmouth, and beyond it, King’s Pass. Beyond that… who knows? But not Hallownest, and not anywhere within the king’s reach.

Not anywhere within Her reach, either.

A single tear drops to the ground beneath him. He blinks at it, blinks harder, and continues, “But you didn’t. Moths are disappearing, supposedly because of the Infection. But I’ve checked, and double-checked. This started before the Infection, and even if it didn’t… not one of them attacked me on the way up. Not  _ one. _ You bear no malice for us still, and for that… for that, I am glad.”

Tara sniffles. “But that means… the king. The second light. You’re retaliating against  _ him, _ specifically, and I hate that I know why. Part of why, anyway. Moths are disappearing, and you think he’s responsible, and… well, I suppose I’ll find out soon whether or not that’s true. But I fear it is, which means there really  _ is _ no stopping the Infection unless he backs down, and… he won’t. He’s planning something.”

Movement from the direction of the passage up catches his eye, and he looks over quickly—but it’s nothing. Merely a bit of trash, from whoever the last visitor had been. Tara tries not to think too hard about wherever that moth might be now.

“He’s planning something,” Tara repeats earnestly, “and he’s been keeping it as much a secret as he has your part in the Infection. Which is to say, I’m not sure I ever would have figured it out without already being one of your faithful. There are others that could, at the Archives… but I don’t think either of them have all the information, and even if they did, neither of them would be able to do any more than me.”

He looks at the ground again, and realizes that what was once just a single wet drop has multiplied. He wipes his eyes with a wing, to no avail, and keeps going. “The madam… Monomon, she’s one of the Dreamers meant to seal you away. Or she will be. But they alone wouldn’t be enough. The king is planning  _ something _ else, and I… don’t know what it is. I’m not sure anyone but Monomon herself knows what it is, but whatever it is… you can handle it. I  _ know _ you can, and no matter how long it is delayed, the Infection will come back. I just wish… it hadn’t come to this, if that makes any sense.”

Tara looks up to the statue, as if waiting for a response. He doesn’t get one. “I… suppose I’m coming here to say goodbye. I’m leaving Hallownest. I was being watched in the Archives, and I think… it would have been all too easy to stage an ‘accident’ there. I’ve been followed all the way here, but I think if I make it beyond Hallownest’s borders, I’ll be safe. I’m sorry. I wish I could be brave. I wish I could tell someone besides you about what I’ve discovered, but… that would just get them killed instead of me. At least this way… at least this way  _ someone _ remembers you, even if that someone has passed beyond your reach.”

He glances back at the town below, then at the cliffs on its other side, and shudders. “I…  _ sincerely _ hope that the rumors of memory loss are untrue. I’m going to chose to believe that they are, that those rumors are merely another facet of that  _ ridiculous _ ‘the king is responsible for all sentience’ movement, but if they are… I’ve made plans.” He pats his bag. “I’ve written letters to myself, reminders of what’s important, of why I left and why I will not be able to return for a long time. Perhaps not even in my lifetime.”

Despite himself, Tara laughs. “Light,  _ that _ is a disturbing thought, and not one I wish to dwell on. But, ah… yes. Goodbye, Radiance. Hopefully not forever. Hopefully—”

He’s cut off by the significantly louder sound of  _ something _ pulling itself up out of the shaft—or perhaps someone? No, some _ thing. _ It’s an imposing figure, standing head and shoulders above Tara, with four arms bearing a sickle and a distinctly  _ crownlike _ helmet.

If Tara didn’t already know what this was, he would still consider this evidence that his fears about the king were very much founded. But he  _ does _ know what this is. He’s seen one, exactly once. A deactivated one, that Monomon was  _ extremely _ excited to study.

A  _ kingsmould, _ she’d called it. A product of the king’s experiment with the deep, unfriendly darkness below Hallownest. They are, apparently, perfect warriors. They feel no pain, no fear, no nothing.

This one takes one look at him and brandishes its sickle.

Tara’s shoulders slump. “Whatever it is he’s planning, it  _ probably _ involves the Void,” he admits. “I wish I knew more, but… I-I can’t. I’m sorry. Goodbye, and…” 

The kingsmould holds its sickle like it is about to throw it.

“May light follow your path,” Tara recites, for lack of something better. Then, he turns, and he  _ leaps. _ The sickle sails over his head, returning to its thrower as Tara soars back up above and out of throwing range. He keeps flying. Were he short on provisions, he’d stop in Dirtmouth first, but… he has enough. Hopefully.

He can’t risk the stop. In truth, even the detour to Hallownest’s Crown was too risky. That, however, is a risk he can’t be mad at himself for taking.

But he can’t risk anything more.

And so, green wings spread against the darkness, he  _ soars. _

(The wind usually blows from the Howling Cliffs to Crystal Peak. Tonight, it blows in the opposite direction. Tara whispers a thanks before he is fully beyond Hallownest’s borders.)

**Author's Note:**

> I really just keep digging that "oops I made PK a completely irredeemable bastard" hole deeper huh. at this point I really am going to have to bring in an alternate timeline PK or something if I want to write a redemption arc, but also that... wouldn't really be a redemption arc if that PK did nothing wrong? maybe an alternate PK that just did a few things wrong.
> 
> idk, man, I just think moths are neat and have Many Thoughts about them. 
> 
> ....anyway, this is Tara! he's a moth. based on a luna moth, if you were wondering, and as of Hollow Knight canon he is still vibing somewhere out beyond Hallownest.


End file.
